Here’s my objective correlative.
When I was a wee lad of puerile innocence (about 5 years old), my grandmother passed away from a long battle with cancer. With my five year old innocence and imagination, I was not particularly struck with emotional grief and sadness–in fact, it wasn’t an emotionally or intellectually (as far as five year olds go) dark time at all. Much like a pendulum, the full weight–the full impact–of my grandmother’s passing didn’t hit me until much later in my life; I imagine someone holding pulling the weight on the pendulum back (the death) and waiting for it to reach the opposite side (my awareness, consciousness, understanding, reasoning, etc.). My grandmother’s death had a unique impact on me (as opposed to others in my family who passed away) because of quarters. Quarters, in the hands of a five year old, were gold; they were a gateway into an entirely new world–the adult world of commerce, and more specifically, the corner store. Within this new world of myriad colors, chemicals (that sound like “gross”: sucrose, etc.), beaming fluorescent lights, things like juice, bubble gum, and chips (among a few other loose candies) could be bought with this invaluable currency. I was unlike most five year old children. I kept those quarters in a glass milk bottle and watched my savings grow and grow with each new addition of pennies, nickels, dimes, and even the coveted one dollar bill! About a year later I was organizing my room the best I knew how, opening drawers, putting things here and there, picking up toys and gather loose items from the ground. When I opened one my drawers, I found a trove of riches: quarters! Money! Time to go to the corner store. Those immediate responses dissipated once I picked the coin up and stared at it–this was a coin my grandmother gave me. At that moment, memories of cookies, walks, card games, playing Super Nintendo, laughing, hugging, and every other (emotionally charged) moment flooded back in a torrent of memories. That was when I felt the full force–the full weight–of her death. I remembered her face, her perfume, and I missed her. That coin is still replete with all of those memories.